


crumbling

by after_me_flood



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Eventual Happy Ending, Feelings, Gen, M/M, Pining, a bit angsty but only a tiny bit, a mess, fluff?, joohyuk? did you mean idiots in love, more feelings, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/after_me_flood/pseuds/after_me_flood
Summary: The blanket under him is soft, but not soft and surely not thick enough for him to not feel every ridge and stone in the ground beneath it. But Jooheon is with him, stretched out on his back with the tiny prop pilows under his head and dressed so damn cute in his jeans and a white-blue stripey shirt, his recently bleached snow white hair matching Minhyuk‘s own somehow still looking very soft.And that’s enough for Minhyuk.





	crumbling

 

He feels oddly drained.

The sun shines just the right amount and the wind is refreshingly gentle as it sways the tall grass around them in a calming rhythm and pushes the clouds above lazily somewhere west. Or east. Or north, Minhyuk really has no idea, as he doesn’t have to.

The blanket under him is soft, but not soft and surely not thick enough for him to not feel every ridge and stone in the ground beneath it. But Jooheon is with him, stretched out on his back with the tiny prop pilows under his head and dressed so damn _cute_ in his jeans and a white-blue stripey shirt, his recently bleached snow white hair matching Minhyuk‘s own somehow still looking very soft.

And that’s enough for Minhyuk.

He shifts his weight a bit since he’s leaning back on his elbows, moves closer, and runs his hand through Jooheon’s hair, because he knows he’s always allowed, and yeah, okay, fine, it’s crispy.

Minhyuk knows that the others are shooting their scenes right now, so there’s only about six staff members scattered around them that he can see in the distance, chatting and shuffling around with makeup and equipment. In idol world, this is considered a mighty amount of privacy. Not that he really needs it right now, for this. But it feels nice, the blanket being something akin to an isolated island.

He pillows his head on Jooheon’s stomach again, just like he did a few moments ago when the staff was still there and he was determined to get their own video done (before realizing that’s pointless because they don’t have enough time anyway) and stares up at the clouds.

A minute passes, or two. Who knows.

Changing his mind _again_ , he moves to lie down onto his side next to Jooheon instead, who is still doing a great job pretending he’s taking a nap, used to Minhyuk’s hyper ass not being able to stop moving. At this point Minhyuk is sure that he’s developed some kind of reflex, an automated motion to just touch Jooheon’s hair, but Jooheon breathes out and leans into it a bit, so there’s no guilt left in Minhyuk's system over it. Only the stupid warmth spreading throughout his chest.

“It’s so crunchy.“ Minhyuk says, but it doesn’t stop him from carding his fingers through the hay-like strands. “We’re just missing the right kind of dip and we can serve it, it’s done. Fried with love. Not quite golden, but the crunch is just right.“

Jooheon pouts at him. “Please don’t eat my hair. I think it’s pretty when they style it.“

“All of you is pretty, styled or not.“ It slips from his mouth as usual and as Minhyuk watches Jooheon’s ears turn light pink and a bashful smile appear on his plush lips while his eyes squeeze shut, he laughs to himself, because he can’t not.

Jooheon huffs out a dumb breathy laugh too, eyes still closed, averting his head away. “Stop“, he groans and makes a face like he’s in pain, but they both know he doesn’t really mean it. 

Minhyuk does mean it. All of it, every time. 

He hums, long fingers still working gently through Jooheon’s scalp. “So pretty.“

Flustered Jooheon might just be one of his favorite things in this world.

“I could just take my time and stay here with you forever. Best date ever.“ Minhyuk makes sure to deliver his usual sappy lines in the fakest, most dramatic way possible, feigning wonder in every syllable and making the worst kissy noise he can manage at the end. Perfect.

But Jooheon just looks away somewhere far and smiles, shy.

Minhyuk watches him rub his nose with the back of his index finger, like Jooheon often does, his own tired brain trying to deduce what he’s thinking, but then realizing that he doesn’t really know what he’s looking for.

His hand leaves Jooheon’s hair and he shifts lower, probably fucking up his own hair too in the process, and nuzzles his face into Jooheon’s side, nosing at his ribs and leaving zero to no care to the fact that his BB cream is definitely going to get on his pretty shirt. He keeps his hands to himself this time, folding them on his chest and takes a deep breath - it's all fresh air mixed with something taken out of the washing machine just yesterday (and some baby powder) – and he colors this moment in his mind. Light blue, a shade mixed from the sky above them and the stripes on Jooheon’s shirt. He puts the moment right next to playing Overwatch the other day and totally obliterating that Seventeen kid. Bliss.

 _Maybe it’s not enough_ , he thinks after a while and falls asleep there.

 

........................

 

The lights in this particular room backstage are too bright for him to rest.

He watches Jooheon talk and gesticulate wildly behind an amused Hyungwon, the pair’s eyes meeting in the large mirror in front of them. Hyungwon’s stylist seems to be waiting for him to finish, because there is no way someone successfully puts eyeshadow on an uncontrollably chuckling Hyungwon.

Minhyuk can’t hear them through the sound of blowdryer in his ears, but he can’t really sleep through it either, so when his own stylist’s makeup brush isn’t dangerously close to his eyes, he just observes.

He observes how Jooheon’s cheeks push his eyes into crescents, how his dimples are there when he talks and smiles continuously, taking small breaks to adorably stomp around with his feet and laugh with Hyungwon, his hand resting on Hyungwon’s shoulder and the other flailing around in the air as he explains something. So animated, always telling a story or trying to prove a point with his whole body. Hyungwon loves it. Everyone does. _(You are not special.)_

He blinks and Hyungwon is talking now, so Minhyuk watches Jooheon stop in his tracks and focus on Hyungwon’s face in the mirror, his lower lip hanging out a bit in a natural pout. He laughs.

And even though Minhyuk can’t hear it, his mind can, perfectly. He hasn’t exactly put a color to it yet, but right now he decides the tone might’ve been somewhere near pink.

The stylist waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Keep your face relaxed, please, it's hard to do this when you're smiling this much.“

“Sorry.“ he closes his eyes.

Everything is okay and he doesn’t have a problem.

........................

 

Minhyuk plops down onto his stupid bunk bed, next to his stupid whale plush and puts his head onto his stupid pillow, absolutely exhausted. Said bed and its accessories deserve to be called stupid, since they can’t seem to do their job. That is, to put him to sleep. And okay, maybe that’s kind of his job too, but he’s too tired to think about that now.

He squints at his phone, only the sound of Kihyun rolling over on the upper bunk cutting through the silence now that his own breathing has calmed down. The numbers tell him it’s two in the morning. That’s fine, could’ve been worse. Perfectly normal.

Changkyun is still somewhere in the dorm, straining his eyes glued to his own phone watching something that Minhyuk probably doesn’t know and doesn’t even _want to, for his own good and a peace of mind,_ know exists, and Jooheon... Right, Jooheon is sound asleep in the opposite bunk, his back turned to Minhyuk. He’s not snoring this time, that’s nice. The conditions for sleeping are ideal, an imaginary weatherman states a bit too enthusiastically in his heavy brain.

It’s been like this for a while now. Him not remembering when exactly he fell asleep, just the fact that it took forever and he woke up half-dead with his eyes burning and his mind unfocused and wandering to these now useless cotton sheets throughout the whole day.

And maybe to something else, too.

But the fans cheer and scream and Minhyuk feels their energy recharging him as he performs his life out on stage. He’s tired, yes, but he pushes through it like a good team member would. A professional, that’s what he is and should be. It’s fine, no big deal, it will surely go back to normal later.

Maybe he’s just restless. Is that the same thing?

 _Shut up and go to sleep, holy shit._  
  
He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to enter the dreamland - same routine, every night. There’s really no reason not to sleep, right? His limbs feel heavy and his eyes sing with happiness every time they don’t have to be open anymore. He repositions himself so that he‘s facing the cold wall and hugs the stuffed whale. It’s comfy.

_(It could be comfier, you know? It’s not that far, if you just...)_

He turns again, possibly out of spite, facing the bed on the opposite side of the room. That bed. The damn bed with Jooheon, sleeping just a few meters away from him all warm and soft as usual, because it’s humanly impossible for him to be anything else but warm and soft at all times. He hugs the plush tighter and continues to stare into the dark room, eyes burning again but focused on the shape of Jooheon’s back, trying not to think about things like wrapping his arms around him and staying there all snuggled up until he finally falls asleep.

The room suddenly feels too warm despite his feet being cold.  
  
He turns away one last time and tries to sleep.  
  
When Changkyun finally tries to find the way to his bed, hands flailing around in the dark an hour later, Minhyuk is still awake, focused on the wall and thinking about a mixture of multiple things, a substance reminding him of molten asphalt. Gray-black, too warm and too heavy. It sticks and doesn’t let go.

 

........................

 

It's slowly becoming a standard for him. After staring into the computer for two hours and nearly breaking the keyboard while yelling at some random teen, Minhyuk had decided that he’s done for tonight. Now he’s here, in his bed, all of the thoughts and all of the emotions released, soul cleanse all done, but still finding himself unable to perform such basic life activity as sleep.

He‘s shaking his foot as usual, except now he’s doing it while awake, which makes zero sense. He’s not nervous. It’s a lovely september evening, the window of their room is open just a crack and the air is as amazing as you can get in a city.

_(There is absolutely nothing bothering him right now. Or has been for the past week. Past month.)_

The members are out, but he didn’t feel like engaging in any more social activies than needed today, so he chose gaming, aka connecting with people while trying to end them, which still technically count--

The sound of the front door closing pulls him back to reality.

Minhyuk listens. The sound is not enough for six people, there are no hushed voices nor the usual screaming to be heard from the hallway. The door of their room opens carefully and a head in a beanie pops in.

Despite the flip his stomach just did, his mood is suddenly ten times better. He promptly hates himself for it.

“Hey.“ Jooheon says after a few seconds of squinting into the dimly lit interior.

“Hi. Did you have fun? Where’s everyone?“

“As much fun as one can have in a studio. I didn’t go with them this time.“

Oh. So it’s just him and Jooheon. In the dorm. Alone. An asteroid could crash into him right now and he’d be less surprised at the probability. He finds himself to be filled with strange joy, somehow accompanied by an awful amount of dread, and he sort of knows why. He sort of knows why and he hates that he sort of knows and Jooheon doesn’t know at all and is there even really something to sort of know?

Nothing is going to happen, because there is nothing to happen, nothing will happen because nothing can happen. Nada. Go to sleep.

Except, he really, really can’t. It’s midnight and he’s been lying here for what feels like ages, his efforts fruitless, perhaps thinking a bit about said nothing, before ideal circumstances for said nothing suddenly came true, making it even harder not to think about said nothing.

As Minhyuk ponders about all of this, Jooheon slips into the room and begins his usual search for clothes to sleep in.

“At the foot of your bed.“ Minhyuk mumbles peeking out of his blanket cocoon even though he just told himself to shut up 0.2 seconds ago.

He keeps one eye opened and watches Jooheon grab the shirt poking from beneath the duvet there.

“Thanks.“

Everything feels domestic and so Minhyuk feels like dying, but death isn’t really a viable option now, so he at least closes his eyes again.

He hears Jooheon leave the room and he doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that he went to shower and will return all cute and clean and barefaced and smelling like the loveliest thing on earth, because that’s what happens every night and it’s really the worst. He turns to face the wall. The foot shaking intensifies.

Minhyuk‘s senses are still perfectly alert when he feels the mattress dip behind his back. _Oh no._

“How long have you been trying to fall asleep?“ It infuriates him that he knows. Must be the foot.

“Dunno. An hour? Two? Is it important?“

Jooheon shifts, the mattress sinking even deeper.

“Do you, maybe... want to talk?“

 _God yes_ , he thinks but also, _oh god, no please, that’s the last thing I want_.

Minhyuk turns, finds out he was right about everything and forcefully peels his eyes off of the softest, sweetest boy he’s ever seen, sitting at the edge of his bed. And since he’s selfish, instead of pushing Jooheon away, he sits up as much as the bunk allows him and leans against the wall, legs folded under the blanket to keep them warm. Jooheon doesn’t wait for him to pat the spot next to him, because he’s already crawling there, slipping his bare feet under the blanket with Minhuyk’s own. His feet are cold and Minhyuk allows him to warm them against his legs (to punish himself for being this stupid). _It’s so nice, it’s not fair,_ he thinks as he feels goosebumbs erupt on his legs and pulls the blanket over both of them as high as he can.

They sit huddled together like that, bodies pressed together at the sides, Minhyuk hugging Jooheon’s arm to his chest _(the shirt Jooheon sleeps in is so soft, this is terrible)_ , head resting on his shoulder and now trying _not to_ fall asleep, because he’d very much like to enjoy this while awake, thank you very much. He shakes his foot still, but less furiously.

“So what did you do when I... when we were all gone?“

Minhyuk doesn’t raise his head from Jooheon’s shoulder, instead he just gestures with his chin towards the laptop on the nearby desk.

“Did you play with anyone you know?“

“No. Didn’t want to.“ He surprises himself at how easily he just told the truth - today‘s evening really was for avoding people.

They sit in silence for a while and Minhyuk realizes just how tense he‘d been for the past few hours. He feels Jooheon rest his head against his and god, it really was _so nice. Too nice._

“Why do you decline to go with the others so often?“ Jooheon asks.

“I don’t know, why do you?“ Minhyuk shoots back in defense.

“I had work.“ Jooheon says, almost proud.

“Work can wait.“

“So can gaming. And you don’t go all the time, I go out far more often than you. And I text people all the time. All kinds of people.“

It was true, Jooheon seemed to be friends with half of the population of Korea, nearby countries included. Everyone seemed to love him and he tried to love everyone. _(You are not special.)_

“Not everyone is the same, Honey boy. I’m not lonely. I just like to be alone sometimes. There’s a difference there.“ Minhyuk huffs out, wincing at the exhaustion in his own voice.

It’s half true. There are people he misses and there are people he would like to be friends with, even though he doesn’t quite know how. _Yet_. But still, he enjoys being alone. Enjoys to sit back and think, until the need to spend hours gaming and bowling and watching stupid shows to make him think less comes in. Feel less, perhaps, too.

For example, right now, he feels Jooheon sigh into his hair. His heart could do without that. Minhyuk dismisses the thought train immediately.

“You know you can tell me if—“

Except he can’t. He can’t even tell Kihyun everything, and Kihyun knows the most about him out of all the people in the world. But he can’t exactly cling to Kihyun like this, that too. Their relationship was different, sincere only when it needed be, otherwise they lived off of sarcasm and clowning each other. That was ideal and that felt right. They were very close, yes, always together, always talking, but both sometimes too stuck up and proud to remove all of the barrierrs between them, running into silences and awkwardness from time to time when it came to feelings and heart to hearts. He could never let his guard down fully around Kihyun, they were always playing their game. Love has many faces, Minhyuk thought, and theirs worked like this. He loved to play.                                              

With Jooheon, though, he could be a little different. A bit more himself, a bit more affectionate, a bit more honest, all was allowed and nothing felt weird. He could be his clingy self and it was okay. He could make fun of him, tease and annoy him to no end, but they could have moments like these and it didn’t feel awkward, in fact it felt so damn right he hated every second of it, because having something like that with someone felt annoyingly comforting. Annoyingly, because Minhyuk thought he was only there to play, and yet he always craved it.

Why would anyone long to be weak or vulnerable? 

“If what, Honey? I told you, I’m fine.“ Minhyuk tried to sound as certain as he could.

“Obviously you’re not, we had a packed schedule today and you can’t sleep, and you’re shaking your foot, look.“ Jooheon tells him this as if his foot wasn‘t a part of his own damn limb and he somehow couldn’t feel it shaking for the past 3 hours. And like the idiot he is, Minhyuk looks at the stupid foot that he can’t even see through the blanket and curses it for what seems like the milionth time tonight.

“I just like to think sometimes, that’s all. The best thinking is done alone.“

“I know you do, that’s why I’m worried.“

Minhyuk feels his heart rate pick up. Worried? Lee Jooheon? About him? No, no, no. No. In an alternate universe, perhaps. Here, it’s Minhyuk who’s there to baby and worry about Jooheon and his sleeping schedule, it’s him who will make sure to ask Jooheon if he ate enough and it’s always him who makes sure he feels good and content with himself at all times. It’s him that gives and Jooheon that receives. He checks and Jooheon reports. He fixes. That’s his job. That’s their dynamic. That’s their love.

And Jooheon doesn't really care about Minhyuk - he cares about everyone, Minhyuk included.

That's just how he is.

Minhyuk is the moodmaker, he needs to take care of his group. And Jooheon just needs more care than the others. Right. That’s how it is, that’s just his job. He can take care of himself. Has to. It’s the least he can do.

“There is nothing to be worried about, Honey.“

He can practically hear Jooheon pouting in disagreemnt. “I’m not sure if there’s any blood left in my arm.“

Minhyuk sighs, relaxes his grip and moves to hold his hand in apology. Shifts closer. Feels warmer.  
  
The room falls silent again, and the next thing Minhyuk remembers is waking up in his bed,  actually rested, properly tucked in and alone, Jooheon’s bed already empty.

White. He imagines a polished marble stone. Satisfying and perfect at first glance. Cold and slippery under his hands.

 

........................

 

The concerts are meant to be work, yet Minhyuk finds himself cherishing every little moment, every interaction and the image of everyone performing with him, all of the feelings he feels and the individual fans he sees. It’s all magical.

If the atmosphere at the venue had a color, it would be, in Minhyuk’s humble opinion, a rather warm shade of yellow. Yellow like feeling the sun putting a finger on him to remind him there’s still warmth in the world as he stands freezing on the snowy sidewalk during winter, yellow like the cabinet his grandmother used to have her collection of perfumes in (he loved to smell them so much), yellow like the decorative sunflowers on the tiles of their old bathroom, where he used to lie in the tub for long minutes, soaking in hot water. And yellow like the light of that old lamp his father brought home one day that he’d later read all of his favorite books and mangas under. Yellow like warmth and light and yellow like feeling loved and feeling special. Yellow like feeling content and important and wanted, that’s what the concerts felt like.

After the show, Minhyuk lets his body melt into the bench he finds backstage and the yellow ambience fades as he’s left with something else, something he can’t quite name. Something that maybe hurts a little.

He sees Kihyun out of the corner of his eye, changing into a clean t-shirt and he hears Hoseok bark out a laugh at something Changkyun just said, though the sound comes to him muffled. There is staff everywhere, hurriedly getting everything ready, or rather un-ready - dissasembled and packed - and he’s pretty sure someone just handed him his change of clothes, which now sits on his lap, uselessly.  
  
„Hey, everything alright?“  
  
With lazy movement, Minhyuk takes the clothes from his lap and puts them on the edge of the bench, next to him. He grabs the shirt and at least begins to change into that, as slowly as he can so that he doesn’t exactly have to face Hyunwoo, who is now watching him all worried. Hyunwoo can’t fix this. _(There is nothing to fix.)_

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just a bit tired.“

He loves Hyunwoo, he really does, every kind and considerate bit of him, but he’s really not in the mood for hearing some leader speeches he’s probably totally made himself believe he‘s obligated to give him, so as he tries to sit next to him, Minhyuk musters all of his strength to fake the best laugh he can and playfully punch Hyunwoo's leg a few times, only one arm pulled through the new shirt still. Shownu can’t fix this. _(Nothing to fix.)_

“Come on, go change, big bear.“

The big bear frowns. “Are you sure?“

“I’ve never been more sure in my life. Go, go.“ he swats a hand at him as he manages to finally poke his head through the shirt.

Minhyuk watches him go and sighs, slumping back against the bench, eyes fluttering closed. He tries to think about yellow.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed before the wooden bench seat bends down slightly under a new weight and there’s a hand on his hand, warm, and a bit clammy.

 _Oh_ , is all his mind manages, knowingly, but he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Hi Honey. Are you—“

“How did you know it was me?“

Minhyuk smiles, eyes still closed. “No one else in the world is going to hold my hand so sweetly. So romantic.“ He makes sure to theatrically sigh out the word romantic. Good job, Minhyuk.  
  
A beat. Jooheon doesn’t move his hand.  
  
“You look tired.“  
  
“Aren’t we all tired. That‘s life for you, anyways—“  
  
“Look at me.“  
  
Minhyuk opens his eyes and maybe he’s good at lying using words, but right now, his face probably tells the truth for him.  
  
_Oh_ , his brain manages for the second time tonight, as he looks into familiar eyes and a tiny flash of yellow bleeds into his mind, touching his thoughts ever so slightly. He looks down, unable to maintain the eye contanct that usually comes to him so easily, straightens up, no longer slumping against the bench and shuffles to sit closer to Jooheon, their legs touching.

He knows Jooheon is still watching him with his mouth pressed into a thin line, dimples popped out and eyelids a bit droopy, worried, probably tired himself (but surely not the way Minhyuk was tired) and just when Minhyuk decides on his next lie, Jooheon lets go of his hand and loops an arm around him, pulling him close.  
  
The _oh_ in Minhyuk’s brain now turning into a content and surprised _ah_ , as he allows himself to indulge in the feeling.

He likes this. _(He hates this.)._ He likes to hold Jooheon, undeniably, but in rare moments like this one, he likes the way Jooheon sometimes holds _him_ , something between careful and sure, the way his hand leaves a path of quickly dissipating warmth on his arm, stroking gently up and down. He just likes the way Jooheon holds him sometimes, it is as simple and as complicated as that. A tiny shiver of shame runs through him and Jooheon, his _(not his)_ sweet Honey, probably mistaking it for him being cold, pulls him even closer. If that’s even possible.  
  
On stage, they already hugged and clinged to each other like five times, but that was different. That’s mostly Minhyuk anyway, affected by the concert high enhancing his feelings. _(What feelings? There are no feelings.)_   He’s sure he's held a whole Kihyun like that multiple times. This is a bit more sober, a bit more conscious, a bit more serious, a bit softer. And Jooheon rarely does this, which is honestly making him wonder just how bad he must look.

It’s not supposed to be like this and the fact that he’s letting it happen when just a few minutes ago he sent Hyunwoo away doesn’t help.

But Minhyuk is _exhausted_.

 _Fuck it,_ he says to himself and he uses this special opportunity to melt against Jooheon’s side completely, head lolling onto his shoulder and nuzzling shamelessly as close as he can while sighing a little. And perhaps he could fall into a coma right now and wake up in eight months or so, that’s how good it feels.

"Hey“ a hot breath against his scalp, “you know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?“

_(Always so gentle and lovely. Sincere. Warm. Stop.)_

A quiet "Mm“ is all he gives in response, but he’s also pretty sure that an answer containing actual words would give the same amount of information, if he was up for giving one.

Jooheon uses his other hand to find Minhyuk‘s again, thumb stroking his knuckles.  
  
They sit like that for a while, maybe two minutes and maybe twenty, Minhyuk isn’t quite sure anymore. What he remembers from the rest of the night is the members (maybe Hoseok, Hyunwoo, both?, he doesn’t know) dragging him into the van and him slumping against (but he knows this) Jooheon once more and being knocked out till morning.

 

........................

  
  
“You slept for 16 hours.“  
  
“Oh. Okay, wow.“  
  
“How do you feel?“  
  
“Honestly? Really good.“

 

........................

 

  
Later, Minhyuk buys Jooheon a gift. For no reason, and it’s a yellow cap.

 

........................

 

He nearly falls over as he stumbles through their tiny hallway cluttered with things that don’t even _belong_ into a hallway. _But what are you going to do, living with 6 other people in a space barely big enough for 5,_ he tells himself putting his bag on a chaotic pile of... socks? _God, please be just socks_ (living here, Minhyuk has _seen things_ ). Not bothering to turn on the light, because someone left it on in the nearby kitchen anyway, he squats down and fumbles around in his bag, pulls out his skincare and victoriously heads straight to the bathroom.

He was informed that the members will arrive about half an hour after him.

The shower feels amazing and he’s sure his bed is going to be even better. He massages his scalp with shampoo and the feeling of doing that after so many days in the jungle is spectacular, his senses loving every second of it. It slowly starts sinking in. He’s really home, he did it.

Minhyuk is most surprised at how much he's missed them. All of them, really. He's missed everyone. Life in Chile was hard, as short lived as it was, but he would do it again, anytime. _Just, not right now,_ he thinks as hot water pounds with the best kind of pressure into his sore shoulders.

Despite always falling asleep quickly in the jungle, only now he feels his body finally relax a little after too many days of tension. He tries not to think about the schedule tomorrow. Morning will be hard, but he can cross that bridge when he gets to it.

He exits the shower, brushes his teeth and slaps on just the most basic steps of his skincare, not bothering. There are visible bags under his eyes _. (They were there before you left.)_ An apology to his makeup noona in case his skin breaks out later passes through his mind.

Light and steam follow him out when he stumbles into the hoardroom (hallway) again. He finds his way to their room and takes a good whiff of the musty boy-air. They forgot to leave the window open before leaving. Again. Ah, home, truly.

He lets the cold Seoul air into the room. It’s winter and Minhyuk Loves, with capital L, to wear his layers to bed - it’s perfect.

Dressed in the softest of soft PJs, all clean and content he finds his phone and lets his body hit the bed. He unlocks the screen and stares at it, the world around him suddenly slowing down a little, or maybe it’s just his brain that sped up as everything else kept its pace.

The manager had told him: “You did good, you worked hard.“  
  
He replays it many times.

After he got out it was just conversations with people and trying to get some sleep on the plane and then irrelevant conversations again and walking and sitting at the back of their van for a while, exhausted, and then walking again and then talking and then hallway and chaotic socks and shower and...

And now he’s here. He realizes that everyone he‘d spoken to for the past few days was a stranger.

There’s nobody here, but he feels like if there was, they would be strangers too.

The living room is dark when he enters, but he doesn’t feel like existing in his bed right now. Strangely energized, he turns on the small light propped up on a pile of japanese textbooks in the corner and opts for the couch.

As soon as he touches the cushions, someone nearly kicks down the front door yelling his name.

Actually, six someones. Supposedly not-strangers.

 

........................

  
  
Obligatory shoulder pats and high fives and bro hugs and two-seconds-lasting-casual-hugs, a big cheesy group hug included. The entire time he's not really there, only watching his own mouth promise to tell them more tomorrow. It was already late, and as everyone went their own way about their night routine, he let himself fall onto the living room couch again, biting his bottom lip way too hard for someone that was just glad to be home.

Everything is fine, right? Everything is fine except he doesn’t feel like sleeping and his hands are lowkey shaking and his chest feels like it can’t contain the air he’s breathing.

Everyone is probably in their rooms by now, he can’t hear much.

With his feet still on the floor, he hugs himself as if afraid he’d otherwise fall apart, and bends all the way forward and down to rest his head near his knees and he decides to stay like that for a while.

Footsteps.

“Minhyuk?“ a careful whisper.

 _Again? How the fuck does he always find him._ Fate really is testing him. Minhyuk doesn’t have energy for this.

He doesn’t respond, keeping himself in his safe position sounds much better. He grits his teeth. Jooheon will leave him be.

But Jooheon apparently can’t read his signals, because now he’s kneeling beside the couch and there’s a soft hand on Minhyuk’s nape moving down to his shoulders, massaging in circles.

He squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can and bites into his lip again. He’s so (dark purple like the broken bike that sits somewhere in his parents‘ basement) useless.

Jooheon moves to stand up, and as he does, he slowly brings Minhyuk back up with both hands firmly on his shoulders. He then gently prods Minhyuk‘s legs apart with his knee and Minhyuk, still in a strange haze, obliges, feeling him settle onto the couch cushion in the space between his thighs. There is nowhere left to hide, so Minhyuk at least keeps his head down.

He feels Jooheon‘s hand in his hair, brushing it behind his ear. That’s new. Another warm hand on the side of his neck. It’s so hard not to lean into the touch, so Minhyuk grabs the bottom hem of Jooheon‘s shirt and fiddles with it, staring down at his hands. His heart is beating way too hard.

“Hey.“ He looks up and their noses almost bump. Jooheon pulls away, but only a little.

“Go away. It’s nothing.“ Minhyuk manages with a tiny voice, because he doesn’t really want him to go. He feels tiny and huge simultaneously. Tiny and unimportant. Huge and burdensome.

Jooheon frowns at him, narrow eyes unreadable and still horribly close.

And then he’s all over him, pulling him into a tight hug, one arm squeezed between the couch and his shoulders and another around Minhyuk‘s torso, pushing their bodies together as close as possible and sinking them both down into the couch. Holding and grounding. It’s strong and sure and warm and Minhyuk is taken by surprise, reminded for the bilionth time that Jooheon being a soft putty in his hands is a choice.

The bubble around him disappears in a soft pop and the dream-like state is gone. Somehow, he can breathe again.

He gives in, and loops his arms around him, burrying his face into Jooheon’s neck and he’s not sure if he’s crying right now or if Jooheon’s hair is still a little damp from the shower.

“It‘s fine. It must’ve been hard. It’s okay now.“ Jooheon keeps murmuring into his neck and Minhyuk feels his voice vibrate against his skin.

His hair is the ugliest shade of green but his words are yellow. His touch orange. Not quite red, but warm nonetheless.

 

........................

 

Minhyuk’s mind sometimes wandered off to those sayings about home being a person and that’s where he really, truly, had to stop himself.

 

........................

 

He used to put his arms around Jooheon during fansigns and feel a color. It was a pleasant one, even though he didn’t know which one. He used to put his arms around him in the van, in the dorm, on the street, in the bar, the dressing room, when there were people around, when they were alone. It used to be normal, natural and nobody seemed to mind and Jooheon had always tolerated it.

Jooheon didn’t care, it was both his best and his worst feature.

It had one color and the color felt good, so it was enough.

Back then, letting go didn’t hurt.

But now, Minhyuk is only reminded that’s all there is. Just this one color, every time they touched. One that he can’t name. And each time he has to let go before he even figures out which one it is. It felt as if some part of him was slipping away from him too, and with each touch he had no way of knowing if the color remained the same, or if it changed into a different unknown every time, just to mock him.

He starts to avoid the color completely as much as he can. Avoid the touch. And Jooheon seems to tolerate that as well.

Minhyuk had always been tolerated, that’s it. 

Jooheon doesn’t care.

 

........................

 

“So how did I do?“ Minhyuk asks, leaning towards the coffee table to grab a sandwich. He hovers with his long fingers above the tray and then finally snatches one, imitating the claw in one of those toy machines. Lifting up the top part of the sandwich, he starts inspecting the ingredients.

“There are no cucumbers, I already checked.“ Jooheon says. “By eating two.“

“Thanks, but I have to be 100% sure. Not today, Cucumber Satan. Not anyday.“

Eventually satisfied, Minhyuk proceeds to smash the sandwich into his mouth, going by the simple rule of the more at once, the better. He'd wanted to look good for the photoshoot, so he only drank water in the morning (this did not go well with the lack of sleep he’s been getting lately, so his movements were a little slower), but having finished work, nothing could stop him - he is now the sandwich overlord (still not a sleep overlord).

Chewing blissfully, he finally turns to Jooheon. And Jooheon looks so pretty today. In his thoughts, Minhyuk thanks the stylist for the low V-neck and then, equally still in his thoughts, gives himself a good slap. His thoughts are as tired of him as he is.

Jooheon is staring at him.  
  
„What?“ Minhyuk nearly chokes to even get the word out, his voice a pitch too high even through the sandwich remains in his mouth. With the hand that isn’t holding the food, he absent-mindedly pats at his face. “Is there something—“

“No, nothing.“ Jooheon’s blinks at him a few times as his eyes seem to refocus. Then he turns away and watches Hoseok strike a pose in the next room, his expression somewhat contemplative.

“You just... look good. Very handsome.“ He says slowly after a while, not turning to face him and Minhyuk isn’t sure if his imagining it or if his ears really are a bit pink. Can’t be.

Still, Minhyuk stops chewing and everything inside his ribcage feels stupidly soft, stuffed with warmth. “I better do, it’s a big magazine.“

He looks down at the floor, avoids saying more, avoids touching. The floor is some kind of expensive-looking sturdy wood, an unusual rich warm shade of brown. This whole place was expensive-looking _. Fitting,_ he thinks, and it's not about the floor anymore,  _I can’t afford this._

He rubs his shoe against it and tries to remember the color as faithfully as he can.

 

........................

 

“You don’t really... I mean you stopped... “ Jooheon tries to say one morning and it almost looks like he cares.

Minhyuk’s insides pull tight. “Wha--“

“Did I do something?“ he doesn’t give him a chance to pick a mask.

Minhyuk blinks at him, tries to push it all down his throat. The colors, his heart. “You didn’t. Sorry, forget it.“ he doesn’t look at him and hurries out of the room.

 

 ..

 

Later, he locks himself in the bathroom, lets the water run and tries swallow his sobs.

It’s the exhaustion, he tells himself as he splashes cold water into his face to turn down the redness in both his face and his chest.

 

........................

 

“Minhyuk and me can share.“

Minhyuk trips over his own feet, nearly faceplanting onto the hallway carpet weren’t it for Hyunwoo and his dad reflexes to catch him in time.

They are making their way through the hotel and the manager just announced that one of the rooms for two only has a queen-sized bed. This happens from time to time and it’s not a big deal. They’re all close.

“I mean we can switch it up once in a while, right? Hyunwoo and Hoseok still want to hit the gym tonight and Changkyun said that Kihyun and Hyungwon owe him a poker game so... everyone will be happy? You can take the room for one. It’s a gift from us.“ Jooheon says these words casually and with zero hesitation. _What the fuck._

Their manager raises his eyebrows. “I like that. Any objections?“

Hoseok is already smirking at Hyunwoo and Minhyuk sees Changkyun whisper something into Kihyun’s ear, which causes Kihyun to snort wetly. Gross. Hyungwon‘s hand throws up a peace sign as he stumbles through the hallway wrapped around Jooheon like a dead koala. 

No one notices Minhyuk’s slightly panicked expression.

“Alright then, done.“

 

........................

  

A tiny voice in his head tells Minhyuk to lock the door behind them, so he does and feels a little safer and a little taller and a little bit more like himself, but much more nervous for some reason.

 _Calm down, it’s just Jooheon._ Right, but when was Jooheon ever just a Jooheon.

He looks around the room – it‘s nice and cozy, with both of the nightstand lamps painting it with warm tones and the open window hidden behind the long creamy semi-transparent curtains filling it with fresh air and the sounds of the city stretching out nine floors below them.

Jooheon had dropped his bag onto the floor, yanked some of his stuff out of it and disappeared into the bathroom as soon as they entered. Minhyuk can hear the shower running already.

He paces around the room, trying to calm his nerves. There is nothing to be nervous about. He will take a quick shower and hop into bed. And if anything, the bed is pretty wide anyway, there is enough space. No touching needed. They slept in a bed like this one before, it’s been a while (almost a year), but they did and it was fine. So. What is the problem.

_But it was different back then. A year ago, he wasn’t like this. A year ago sleep came easy._

Roughly twenty minutes later (Jooheon was really fast tonight) Minhyuk finally goes to shower and when he comes back, one of the nightstand lights is already off and there’s body-shaped lump on the left side of the bed. That‘s Minhyuk‘s favorite side, near the window. He should’ve called dibs.

The window is still wide open and it’s cold, so he pushes it a little, but doesn’t close it fully - there is no way he can be in absolute silence right now.

He grabs his clothes and changes, jaw clenched. He slips into the bed, sets an alarm, turns off the remaining light and a wave of exhaustion washes over him. Now that he’s here, the bed doesn’t feel that big. They are two grown men after all.

It’s soft and comfortable. Physically, at least. Mentally, less so.

Eyes slowly adjusting to the dark, he thinks about how he loves to torture himself, because he turns to watch Jooheon, who is now facing him (too close) with only his head poking out of the duvet. Maybe he was cold too. His blond hair has gotten kind of long now, it’s all over his forehead in a messy nest, some of it sticking to the pillow with static. His cheek is all squeezed against the fabric, it’s so awfully cute that Minhyuk has to take a deep breath and try to calm his heart a little using will power alone. Just looking at him hurts.

Behind Jooheon, through the spaces where the separate curtain pieces aren’t pulled together close enough, Minhyuk notices distant billboards throwing muted yellow rays of light into the room. One is piercing him straight through the chest. Both of them, actually. That’s poetic, or something, Minhyuk thinks. He really always notices the stupidest shit.

They haven’t said a single word since they entered the room (and haven’t talked besides small talk in a long while, but Minhyuk refuses to think about that) and the longer he watches him, the more he feels like he’s going to explode, so after a while he turns around as quietly as he can and at least attempts to sleep.

Except. He. Fucking. Can’t sleep.

What the fuck was Jooheon thinking, getting them a room together? With one bed? He had all of the reasoning prepared on hand, the little shit must have planned this. And now he’s just softly snoring beside him, looking all innocent and cute and lovely and delicious and cuddly and... What is he supposed to do? _Sleep, Minhyuk, the goal is to sleep. Stop lusting._

He swallows, takes a deep breath, exhales and lies there for a while, watching one of the thin yellow beams of light follow the angle of the wall and then break once more as it reached the ceiling. He doesn’t even notice when the snoring behind him quiets down.

Without any warning, a warm weight presses against his back and an arm is swung around his middle. Minhyuk’s breath is caught in surprise.  
  
“So. Now you’re going to tell me why you don’t sleep.“ Jooheon slurs the words into the back of his neck and tangles their legs together which causes Minhyuk’s whole body to feel like it’s on the verge of a shiver, as if his soul wanted to escape through his pores, but couldn’t.  
  
He quietly clutches at the sheets with one hand but leans back into the warmth becasue why not, it’s already there.

“Thanks for waking me up.“ Minhyuk says, trying to sound like that‘s what just happened.

There is a beautiful pause that lasts a few wonderfully long seconds, where Minhyuk thinks it’s all done, Jooheon will grumpily apologize and hug him tighter and then Minhyuk will be able to relax and fall asleep like that.

But.

“Thanks for not lying to me.“ Jooheon snaps back, voice low, his breath hot on Minhyuk‘s skin. And then he moves away and the warmth is gone.

Minhyuk blinks a few times, trying to process. And then he’s abruptly turning around, not really thinking about why or what he’s going to do or say when he gets there, maybe it’s just his body missing the embrace really badly and as he does so, he nearly knocks their heads together, causing Jooheon to yelp and shift backwards and nearly fall off the bed because he’s always been the most timid thing Minhyuk has ever seen.

They stare at each other, Jooheon’s eyes still wide even after he regains balance, Minhyuk’s expression probably reflecting the stress he’s been perpetually under since he entered this room.

“I asked Kihyun about you countless times and he said I should get it out of you myself, since he doesn’t know either. And it’s not like he didn’t try. Hyunwoo doesn't know, nobody does. You look horribl— no I mean you always look good but now you look less good... no I mean everyone can tell something is wrong and every time I ask you, you can’t seem to tell me for some reaso--“

“Honey, this has nothing to do with you.“ _(Liar liar pants on fire. Body in flames.)_

“Why don’t you trust us?“

Minhyuk thinks about it. He does trust them. Every member, with his life (okay, maybe not Changkyun, but that’s not really Changkyun‘s fault, that’s more of a self-preservation instinct). But that’s not how this works.

Nobody should worry about him, certainly not Jooheon. Especially not Jooheon. He has other things to focus on, things far more important. This is nothing. It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid and it will go away.

Minhyuk can only look at him in silence.

“Not even me.“ Jooheon mutters, looking down.

There is something in his voice, something that shouldn't be there.

Minhyuk looks down too, suddenly feeling Jooheon’s palms envelop his hand and when he looks up, he‘s impossibly close, planting a quick chaste kiss to Minhyuk's lips, their joined hands briefly brushing against the hot skin where Jooheon‘s collarbones meet - and then he pulls away as quickly as he came in.

Minhyuk spots the mortified look on his face before he hears him whimper and say something like “Oh my god I’msosorry I didn’t mea--“, but Jooheon doesn’t finish and instead hides his face in both of his small hands and curls into a distressed human ball on his side of the bed.

Minhyuk opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, in fact the only sound in the room that he's able to register right now is his own heart thudding loudly in his ears and Jooheon’s shaky breathing somewhere beside him. Utterly shocked, he slowly brings his hand to his lips as if to make sure the thing that just happened really happened and then it hits him, full force somewhere deep in his chest. Huge, and heavy like a bowling ball, knocking the breath out of him.

Jooheon likes him back. Not in his fantasies, for real.

He stares at the yellow beam of light bleeding around his ribs and onto the bed, now illuminating Jooheon’s blond head like a halo.

Maybe it’s not stupid.

And then he can’t take it anymore. Shuffling his body lower and forward, he gently peels Jooheon’s hands away from his face and as Jooheon stares at him with wide eyes, looking lost but somehow very found, Minhyuk laces their fingers together and brings their hands to his own chest, pressing them against his wildly beating heart, because Jooheon needs to know. He needs to know how he makes him feel, now and always, when he touches him, when he looks at him, when he’s just with him, when he just is, his or not.

“Honey, _I’m_ so sorry...“ His pulse isn‘t quieting down and he’s not letting go of Jooheon’s hands, in fact all he can do is squeeze them and feel like he’s going to cry any minute.

“I... oh my god no don’t cry too Jesus listen I’m so sorry for avoiding you and not telling you the truth and... and... and I just really like you, okay?“

Jooheon’s beautiful eyes blink at him a few times in the dark, the top of his head still in draped in yellow light, angelic, and they look so, so scared that it breaks Minhyuk’s heart into hundreds of tiny shards, and he doesn’t know how did everything turn out to be this dramatic, maybe he’s just a dramatic person with dramatic feelings and maybe love really just was like this.

“I didn’t want to ruin things between us but at the same time I couldn‘t stop what I felt and I guess it just eventually got out of hand and... you know when I can’t talk about things I just get super stressed so the more I couldn’t talk the more stressed I got and the more I couldn’t sleep, but every time you came and hugged me or just sat there and comforted me I somehow found peace and woke up rested in the morning I... god now saying it like that sounds so stupid but I---“

A tiny incredulous “What?“ escapes Jooheon’s mouth as his gaze keeps flickering between their hands and Minhyuk’s face.

“Don’t you understand? I can’t sleep because I love you, Honey.“ there it was, spoken out loud and it felt like he just told both of them.

Jooheon’s eyebrows shoot up, stay there for a while and then he smiles at him, soft, eyes still miserable and Minhyuk thinks that’s enough and finally lets go of his hands to cup his cheeks instead and kiss him with all he’s got, or at least all that he can find at the moment.

And when Jooheon kisses him back, clumsily at first, and then with more certainty, everything is so soft, softer than Minhyuk thought the world could ever be. His thumbs find the places where Jooheon‘s dimples are and suddenly he’s on cloud nine, his insides mushy and red and warm, with yellow trying to peek through his closed eyelids.

Lightheaded, Minhyuk pulls away, panting and unable to stop himself, he rolls Jooheon onto his back and Jooheon just goes - beautifully pliant as if he was made to give himself to Minhyuk’s every wish. Better than any fantasy. More gorgeous than in any of his dreams. Minhyuk settles above him with knees on either side of his hips, pins his wrists down besides his head and stares, everything happening too fast and coming to him later.

Jooheon stares back up at him, both stunned and stunning, eyes huge, lips shiny and parted, and Minhyuk’s face hurts because there's an emotion in him and he can't, for the love of anything, get his features to express it properly. He usually has words, many of them and with all kinds of options, but now he can’t seem to find any, so he bends all the way down and tries to say it by pressing his lips to Joooheon’s hairline, his perfect forehead, the cute mole above his eye, his button nose, his wonderful cheeks (both, multiple times) and finally his lovely lips again, unpinning his wrists to smooth a thumb along his jawline and tangle a hand in his hair. Jooheon arches up towards him, but his hands stay where Minhyuk left them and Minhyuk can feel him shiver when he bites at his bottom lip, sensitive.

When he can’t seem to not only think straight anymore, but to not think at all, Minhyuk separates their lips and presses their foreheads together, intimacy overwhelming him every passing second. He stays like that for a while, one shaky hand somewhere along Jooheon’s warm throat and the other in the cold sheets, their noses touching. He breathes and Jooheon breathes back, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I thought I did something and you started to hate me.“ he whispers, and it’s soft like everything about him is, which makes it even more painful.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid“. Minhyuk breathes out. “I’m so“, he kisses Jooheon‘s nose, “sorry“ his forehead, “I fucked up“, his lips.

Jooheon loops his arms around his neck. “I love you too.“

Minhyuk stops breathing. Stops moving. Probably stops existing too, he doesn’t know. In his brain, a pixelated video game character that looks awfully lot like him is stabbed through the heart and explodes in all colors of the rainbow.

Jooheon laughs (somewhere near pink) under him, dimples everywhere and pecks his lips once more. And then he’s rolling them both over with surpring ease. Minhyuk’s tired limbs sink into the bedding and all he can do is to try to breathe, because this can’t be real anyway and he’s going to wake up tired in the morni—

Jooheon’s wet mouth on his neck completely shuts down his brain and does the complete opposite to his heart which now seems to be trying to escape his chest. Jooheon is on top of him, leaving trail of wet heat everywhere he touches and Minhyuk’s toes are curling. Unable to stop a low moan, he lets it happen as Jooheon pets his hair away from his face and works his way down almost to his sternum, yanking his oversized shirt down a bit and sucking gently, luckily smart enough to not leave any marks, because they are still who they are and they have work to do in the morning.

And then out of nowhere the skin to skin contanct stops, Jooheon raising his head.

Their eyes meet in the dark.

“Wait.“

“What?“ Minhyuk croaks out, chest heaving and brain still disfunctional and exhausted despite the recent turn of events and his elevated pulse.

“You need to sleep. Like, a lot.“ Jooheon laughs (pink) somewhere above him and god, it sounds great, it feels great and only after a few seconds Minhyuk registers what he said.

“Oh. But what if much more than that, I need you to continue?“ Minhyuk congratulates himself for constructing an actual sentence but then he curses, aware he just _yawned out_ the word continue, sounding super duper drunk.

He gives up, closes his eyes, feels a soft kiss being pressed to his forehead and then he’s being manhandled once again - but this time unashamedly - rolled over and tucked somewhere warm. It smells like baby powder and fresh hotel linen and something very Jooheon and all of the shades of yellow (special) and orange (comfort) and pink (joy) and red (love) would smell like. If he had enough energy, he would remember this as a spectrum, because one or two or ten colors wasn’t enough.

Pressed against Jooheon’s chest, Minhyuk sleeps.

 

 


End file.
